The Pain Itself.
The leaves fall around me. It's spring. And the pink is seen everywhere. I'm a Writer. Or I call myself that. So, everybody always sees me with a pen tucked up into my back pocket and my Bell Bottom drags around on the floor because I'm barely reaching up to the hanger, in my room; where I hide the deep ones of mine, in the form of a paper, so that the deeply lit people think about the words as a paper and a paper itself. By the corner is "The Brewsters."
I walk there, with a book in my hand, Jane Eyre.
"Where you heading?" Ms. Keely asks me with her stripped pants and her plain white shirt panting out of breath. Beneath her lies the trademarks of Spring. Anybody who wore any other shade but for Pink and Yellow seemed to be the Sun now. And Sun was no more Bright. It was just about Perfect; like the little girls who walked past their homes with small baskets carrying around little flowers that caught their attention.
"Brewsters', Ms. Keely." I replied back, amazed by her choice of fashion. The Light gleamed through shades of Perfection and hit her right on her cheeks, the young woman with so much of passion.
She bids bye and I just walk past her, hoping for the people to go on with their own stories. Often, they tell me that people with Intense Emotions don't really enjoy crowd. I never felt that way. Crowd was where I learned to be me.
I felt like a bird, with huge wings that was too scared to fly into the darkened clouds or the lit up sky. I was too numbled to break anything that would in turn, hurt my feelings. I put my pen down, occasionally and the man right up the right to Jade's house sneaks into my head to check if I was mentally stable. Jade is my friend, I say that because she says that to her dad. But I'm not sure about the friendship thing, I don't think she is either. It would sound bad if we go about telling everybody that we don't like each other.
Ha, Words. Words are the answer. Every time, I drop my pen, the boy up the street keeps hustling through like nothing happened and every time the man up Jade's loosens his hose, people sniff around.
Irony, is it?
The path to where I longed was no long. It was just about the corner but onto the way, I see many people curiously looking at Each Others' eyes. Some in pain. Some in love. Some in Happiness. Some in guilt. Anger, persuasion.
But Oh, those are the Idiots that believe that the loved ones are the happy ones. The Happy are different from the Loved; Happy and Love are two strong words that have a force to be reckoned with.
The Happy look at the Clouds and smile to its beauty. He looks into her eyes to realize how blessed he is. She loves the Roof Top and spends her dreamless nights there, beckoning herself with her own fiasco. He pats her on the back, eveytime he looks at her being stunning. But, the Happy ones, eventually become the Lovable; the shoulder, the pen, the might, Him, Her.
Around the end, there's the Pain. Ah, Pain, Nobody knows how it feels. Poor Ms. Kelly thinks it is Pain that Jade is going through because her Mom embarassed her infront of the Dreamy Girls.
Pain. The Happy and the Loved are dusted when it comes to the Pain, man. They don't see their lives falling apart because when they see rain pouring, as the loved do.
Pain is an emotion that feels like it has no colors but has painted every hue with it's own shade of Black.
Jade's dad looks me in the eye every time he sees me, so that I could stop being myself and lose myself in the scents of flavors of spices and leaves.
But, I don't, My friend, dare to tell him that his wife is gadding around with other men in here. Words.
Paradox.
And, I drop my pen again when I realize that not a second has gone by. And, so, they tell me that my feelings are Intense, because I gab my time thinking.
This is why so.
And there goes my Pen again, between the fine line of Love and Happy;
The Pain Itself.
The leaves fall around me. It's spring. And the pink is seen everywhere. I'm a Writer. Or I call myself that. So, everybody always sees me with a pen tucked up into my back pocket and my Bell Bottom drags around on the floor because I'm barely reaching up to the hanger, in my room; where I hide the deep ones of mine, in the form of a paper, so that the deeply lit people think about the words as a paper and a paper itself. By the corner is "The Brewsters."
I walk there, with a book in my hand, Jane Eyre.
"Where you heading?" Ms. Keely asks me with her stripped pants and her plain white shirt panting out of breath. Beneath her lies the trademarks of Spring. Anybody who wore any other shade but for Pink and Yellow seemed to be the Sun now. And Sun was no more Bright. It was just about Perfect; like the little girls who walked past their homes with small baskets carrying around little flowers that caught their attention.
"Brewsters', Ms. Keely." I replied back, amazed by her choice of fashion. The Light gleamed through shades of Perfection and hit her right on her cheeks, the young woman with so much of passion.
She bids bye and I just walk past her, hoping for the people to go on with their own stories. Often, they tell me that people with Intense Emotions don't really enjoy crowd. I never felt that way. Crowd was where I learned to be me.
I felt like a bird, with huge wings that was too scared to fly into the darkened clouds or the lit up sky. I was too numbled to break anything that would in turn, hurt my feelings. I put my pen down, occasionally and the man right up the right to Jade's house sneaks into my head to check if I was mentally stable. Jade is my friend, I say that because she says that to her dad. But I'm not sure about the friendship thing, I don't think she is either. It would sound bad if we go about telling everybody that we don't like each other.
Ha, Words. Words are the answer. Every time, I drop my pen, the boy up the street keeps hustling through like nothing happened and every time the man up Jade's loosens his hose, people sniff around.
Irony, is it?
The path to where I longed was no long. It was just about the corner but onto the way, I see many people curiously looking at Each Others' eyes. Some in pain. Some in love. Some in Happiness. Some in guilt. Anger, persuasion.
But Oh, those are the Idiots that believe that the loved ones are the happy ones. The Happy are different from the Loved; Happy and Love are two strong words that have a force to be reckoned with.
The Happy look at the Clouds and smile to its beauty. He looks into her eyes to realize how blessed he is. She loves the Roof Top and spends her dreamless nights there, beckoning herself with her own fiasco. He pats her on the back, eveytime he looks at her being stunning. But, the Happy ones, eventually become the Lovable; the shoulder, the pen, the might, Him, Her.
Around the end, there's the Pain. Ah, Pain, Nobody knows how it feels. Poor Ms. Kelly thinks it is Pain that Jade is going through because her Mom embarassed her infront of the Dreamy Girls.
Pain. The Happy and the Loved are dusted when it comes to the Pain, man. They don't see their lives falling apart because when they see rain pouring, as the loved do.
Pain is an emotion that feels like it has no colors but has painted every hue with it's own shade of Black.
Jade's dad looks me in the eye every time he sees me, so that I could stop being myself and lose myself in the scents of flavors of spices and leaves.
But, I don't, My friend, dare to tell him that his wife is gadding around with other men in here. Words.
Paradox.
And, I drop my pen again when I realize that not a second has gone by. And, so, they tell me that my feelings are Intense, because I gab my time thinking.
This is why so.
And there goes my Pen again, between the fine line of Love and Happy;
The Pain Itself.
